Unwrapping parenthood one nappy at a time

Ten Things I Love About Toddlers

Toddlers get a bad press. The ‘Terrible Twos’. Well, that’s not very nice is it? Imagine if someone said: “How old are you?” “Err. Well, thirty-something?” “Ooooh! The Dirty Thirties eh?” See what I mean? It’s rude. And I don’t think we should be talking down the toddler years because so far I am loving it.

Little B is SOOO much more fun now he’s got a personality and we can ask him to bring us crisps get him to choose books to look at. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy anything about the small baby months but since he started walking the interaction has blossomed and he’s becoming a nice little person to be around 90% of the time. The other 10% when he gets frustrated or dictatorial I think we can forgive him.

I wrote recently about trying not to say no all the time and since then Little B has become much more considered about his daily exertions. He’s not acting like a terrier on cocaine anymore and actually sits happily playing with his toys or carefully pulling single stems of grass out of the lawn and examining them.

Perhaps he hasn’t become a full-blown toddler yet and I will soon have to eat my words, but for now here’s some things I’ve noticed him doing recently that are very sweet!

Top Ten Things I Love About My Toddler:

1. Bringing us gifts. He hasn’t started ordering me desert boots from ASOS or buying his mum a birthday bracelet from Joy Everley but he does like to bring us twigs, or small pieces of biscuit that he’s found in his buggy, or his socks. And we appreciate every present. “Thank you!” we say and off he goes, a picture of contentment.

2. Kicking a ball. YES! I’m now referring to him as Little Beckham – like Little Ant n Dec. Ever since we bought him this toy football he loves chasing it around the garden laughing hysterically, falling over every five seconds and getting straight back up (no shirking or diving here – he’s like a proper 80s footballer covered in mud). Only issue is picking the ball up and trying to put it in his mouth. It’s bigger than his head. “Oi ref – mouthball!” 3. Asking questions. Not in any language we’ve ever heard but Little B certainly has an enquiring mind. “Da?” he asks pointing directly into the sky. “Baaa-aahh?” he gestures vaguely at the TV with a rising cadence. “Where’s my feckin’ milk?” he demands as he leaps onto the sofa in the morning and turns the TV from Good Morning Britain to Chuggington. OK so he doesn’t say that. But he does change the TV channel.

4. Stroking flowers. “Gentle, gentle” we cry as Little B grabs the roses. “That’s it, nice flowers, no no don’t pick them yet, that’s it, good boy.” And then it’s like the impulse we all have to squeeze a fluffy animal too hard. He. Can’t. Help. Himself. And the rose head is off. “Ahh. That’s sad . Give it to mummy then, give it to…or, or eat it. OK then.” 5. Sharing his food. “No thank you. NO THANK YOU. You eat it. No you eat it….eat it. No not in my hair. You…lovely spag bol..B eat it. Good boy.” Two mouthfuls later. “No thank you. Oh alright then…mmmm THANK YOU!” (As I secrete the tomatoey mess in a napkin.)

6. His love for other children. Little B kicks his legs with joy every time we arrive at our childminder’s house. He LOVES her boys who are much older and will happily be subjected to hours of prodding and squeezing and being lifted up. He genuinely seems to enjoy the company of other children. Well, that is unless they are his age. In which case he just moves them out of the way. Just a little gentle push. Thaaaat’s it. You go there and I’ll take your toys/food/drink/parents. I saw him get into a pedal car when the other child was still SITTING IN IT. Plonked himself down and carried on playing. The driver looked most bemused.

7. Putting himself to bed. Yes really. Well almost. He now knows it is bedtime and actually reaches for the cot. It’s fucking brilliant. In he pops, dummy, Panda, in the bag, lights out. OK one story. OK two. Yes yes here’s the fourth dummy from your collection. But he does WANT to go to bed. Hallelujah! 🙂

8. Asking us to read him a book. See above. Also twelvtythousiollionth times a day. Can’t sit on my own sofa anymore if Little B is in the room. Oh daddy is sitting down. Storytime. Woe betide if you choose the wrong book. “OK OK which one do you want?” He’s pointing and saying “Dabadabdabaaaa”. “Hmm?” “Heedididaddabibaa” This is the TITLE of the book by the way. Like, duh. What do you think it is? Go on guess. Dear Zoo? WRONG! Postman Bear? WRONG! Come on quick – he’s going to cry. COME OOOON. Find the book! Oh God which book does he want? The floor is covered in books. Must be either Squash and a Squeeze? No? Or Room on the… Yes? Oh good. I can recite this one by heart. 9. Dancing. Like this. Sweet moves. Oh yeah. Call BGT. https://youtu.be/Dk8LNhMa1sc

10. Hugs. Doesn’t need any more explanation does it? OK. So sometimes he does walk up and then just gently headbutt you but it’s still a hug in his world. Still a hug. Hurty hugs. Oww. But I still love him to the moon and back.

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Toddlers are enormous fun. I got to babysit my coworker’s 3-year-old twins last weekend, and we had SUCH a good time. However, I have to question your assumption. My babes were full of personality (the same personalities they have today) as newborns. Thank you so much for linking with #TwinklyTuesday.

I’ve seen some parents eat their baby’s offerings – or do that things where they wipe their tots mouth with a finger and lick it – and I’m gagging now just thinking about it! Sorry to those who can but I’m just too squeamish or OCD or something. So yeah, rank soggy toast goes into Little B’s Panda’s mouth behind a napkin (ie. into the napkin and thence the bin) while I say “Mmmm Panda loved that – now you have some”. Thanks for reading 🙂

It can be a particularly good time, this age. There is so much development that goes on in the lead up to turning three – physical, verbal, personality – and you really start to see a glimmer of who they will become. Our third (and last!) turned three a couple of months ago and the realisation that what my wife and I call ‘the golden period’ between around 2.5 and 3.5 is fast disappearing forever.